


wince when you look at me

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dark Magic, Established Relationship, Known magic, M/M, Magic, dark/haunting images, dark/haunting visuals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: When he sleeps that night, phantom warmth covers his back, and Merlin’s fingers, soft and warm and not at all split at the knuckles, wipe the tears from his cheeks.





	wince when you look at me

 “You wanted a monster, so you made one. Why are you so unhappy?” The question falls, muted, from black licorice lips. Arthur stares in horror at the crooked man. Everything about him, the bend of his spine, the hook of his shoulders, the curl of his hips and knees, is  _ wrong.  _ Like the paper doll he once stole from Morgana, after he’d rescued it from his pocket. 

The man’s skin hangs off his bones like tree-rot and his eye, those glassy useless orbs, roll about in his skull, lost and directionless. “Magic you know, isn’t free. Especially when you’re using it to secure a kingdom.” 

The man huffs a putrid breath into Arthur’s face. “Poured all of me into your throne, little golden ducky. Then you went and squandered it. Sold all the better parts of me.” He sits, with no easy effort, and the rattle of his bones reminds Arthur or a shack in a storm. “Anyway. ‘S m’ fault really. Trusting a boy like you.”

“You weren’t any older than I, Merlin.” The words are ripped from Arthur’s cheek, a confession and accusation all in one.

“I know.” The man smiles his infected grin, gruesome and horrific,  _ and so much like _ the smile Arthur used to kiss. 

“And how do I fix it?” He weeps. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I never looked at that. Really expected you to, ya know, never fail.” Another rattling shift of bones. And then that dead stare is fixed on Arthur. “Won’t you put me to rest now? With no kind home, you’ve no use for me. I can’t do it meself you know. That was part of the deal.”

Arthur doesn’t want to. Merlin is horrific to look at, and only half human these days. But he’s  _ Merlin _ . Arthur’s first and last love. But he owes him this, maybe. 

So he leans forward, pushes into the smell of decay, and he kisses chapped and bleeding black licorice lips. He kisses, until the dank air taste almost like hope, until the rot giving beneath his fingers feels almost like flesh. Until the brittle bones start to feel solid. 

He kisses, licks into a mouth almost human. Closes his eyes and doesn’t watch as magic, infected, murky,  _ dirty  _ magic drips between his fingers and into the rotted ground. 

When he sleeps that night, phantom warmth covers his back, and Merlin’s fingers, soft and warm and not at all split at the knuckles, wipe the tears from his cheeks. 


End file.
